CHAPTER XVII

How I Regained my Liberty and at the Same Time was Declared Sane

As I had not been in good health it seemed advisable for me to take the waters at some cure. I really needed treatment, and as small thermal establishments abound in Germany it was not difficult to find a place suitable to my state of health, where my keepers would have no fear of a cosmopolitan crowd, and where they could still guard me as an isolated prisoner.

However, soon after the incident of the letters which had been thrown into my carriage, I was told that I was to stay at Lindenhof. The promised cure was abandoned.

Fortunately the doctor who was called in consultation sided with me, and promised to intervene on my behalf. In the meantime my daily walks ceased. I even decided not to go out at all, as I was completely misled by all the stories which were told me, especially by Dr. Pierson.

He rigorously guarded me, although he always treated me with respect. He knew perfectly well that I was not mad, but he also knew that I was a very remunerative patient; the idea of losing me was extremely unpleasant to him. He continued to watch me, but he also tried to humour me, and he easily persuaded himself that Lindenhof was a really enchanting place.

Had it not been for his position of Doctor in Lunacy and my jailer, his visits would not have been disagreeable to me, as they were not lacking in courtesy.

Dr. Pierson adopted an air of kindness and devotion. He told me, in tones of real alarm, about certain information which he declared came from a reliable source, and which he advised me to take into consideration if I did not wish to grieve him. He said he had heard that bandits had resolved to attack me suddenly in the forest and rob me of the jewels which I usually wore. Dr. Pierson did not deny that the count might have written to me. But he said that the letter which had been seized by my "lady-in-waiting" was not what I imagined it to be. It was spurious and very mysterious. It could not be shown me because it belonged first of all to the Law. I should be well advised to give up the letter I had kept. It evidently emanated from the gang who had planned to rob and assassinate me.

Frightened into listening to him and being utterly depressed by my existence I allowed myself to be convinced. I did not want to go out. For several days I lived in anguish, oppression and uncertainty. I could not sleep. When I reflected, I did not know what to think and what to believe. Suffering upon suffering overwhelmed me. Nobody can conceive the will-power necessary to preserve a certain amount of lucidity when one lives for years among lunatics. The haunting terror is such that if you have not the strength to detach yourself from your surroundings you must inevitably succumb.

But God permitted me to escape in spirit and to rejoin my hoped-for rescuer. I ended by pulling myself together and I again asked to go out. They dared not refuse.

However, I was still somewhat impressed by what I had heard, and I dared not go as far into the forest as formerly. And if I saw one or more cyclists I was afraid, although I said nothing.

Had they come to attack me? I wondered. Had they, perhaps, come to rescue me?

What a power is imagination! The cyclists were only harmless people quietly going about their business.

My doctor-professor had not forgotten his promise. His intervention obtained the desired effect, and it was decreed that I should go to Bad-Elster in Bavaria. This place is in the mountains about a quarter of an hour's drive from the German frontier. If I escaped Charybdis I should encounter Scylla!

The country is wild and the spa deserves to attract a cosmopolitan _clientèle_. But its fame, which is purely German, reassured my jailers. No one would look for me in this modest Bavarian Wiesbaden. And if, peradventure, my defender should arrive, he would find all the avenues to escape well guarded.

In fact, the hotel at which I arrived with my suite of police officials, male and female, was immediately surrounded, according to the rules of the profession, by a cordon of sentries and inspectors.

If any unknown or suspicious person approached he was followed, observed, and promptly identified.

The count took care not to show himself, although, through information which he had procured at Koswig, he was not slow to learn that I had left for Bad-Elster.

The police notified nothing out of the way to my keepers. Personally I was, as usual, neither impatient nor excited. My "lady-in-waiting" could not deny my affability. But within myself I felt that deliverance was at hand.

This intuition was promptly confirmed.

One day, when I was playing tennis, I noticed a fat man whose gait, hat and clothes pronounced him to be an Austrian. His eyes met mine in a very curious manner, but he saluted me respectfully. I could have sworn that his look heralded the coming of the count.

I was not deceived.

A little later, when I was coming out of the dining-room of the hotel, preceded by the doctor attached to my person, and followed by my "lady-in-waiting," a fair man brushed past me and whispered: "Listen! Someone is working for you."

I was obliged to lean against the door; I was suddenly incapable of movement. Fortunately I recovered myself. My two watch-dogs noticed nothing.

The following day I came down to dinner escorted by the doctor and my companion. The waiter who usually attended on us was a little late and was finishing laying the table. Ordinarily he hardly dared look at me, but I now saw that his eyes were speaking to me. At the same time he passed and re-passed his hand over the tablecloth. He first made a fold, and afterwards he arranged and rearranged the linen. I seated myself and, at the same moment, I carelessly touched the spot the waiter had seemed to indicate. I heard a crackling of paper underneath the cloth....

My two keepers were discussing Wagner; they talked on ordinary topics. They could see me approving their banalities with a gracious smile, and they redoubled their eloquence. I profited by this to seize and hide the letter so cleverly placed within my reach between the tablecloth and the table.

I read the letter--I devoured its contents--as soon as I was alone in my room. It was from whom I guessed! It announced my approaching liberty. It gave me explanations of what had been done and what still had to be done in order to effect my escape from my long torture. I was to answer in the same way. I could rely on the waiter.

This is how a daily correspondence began between the count and myself. I very soon knew what measures I should have to take, what attitude to adopt, what necessary preparations to make, whom to fear and whom to trust.

The night watchman had been gained over on our side. This brave man, like the waiter, ran a grave risk. No one will ever know the extent of the devotion which the frightful persecution to which I was a victim has evoked and still evokes!

At last I received the eagerly awaited note, which said: "_It will be to-morrow_."

To-morrow! To-morrow! I had only another day to wait, and then I should be free.... This was in August, 1904. For seven years I had been in captivity; I had lived among lunatics, and I had been treated as a lunatic.

One thought alone froze my blood: the count would, no doubt, make his appearance. And I remembered that quite recently my "lady-in-waiting" had shown me a revolver, and coldly warned me that she had orders--from whom?--to shoot any would-be rescuer.

Never were my prayers more ardent. Then, recovering my serenity and my confidence, I made all my preparations.

I needed a few hours in which to arrange my papers, destroy letters, and to sort what I intended to take with me. How was I to do all this without arousing suspicion?

I decided to say that instead of going out in the afternoon I would wash my hair. This proceeding, which I often did myself, afforded me the opportunity of being alone, without the "lady-in-waiting," that indefatigable spy, being alarmed. The chambermaid arranged everything that was necessary, and I made a great show of splashing with the water. But I took good care to keep my hair dry for fear of contracting rheumatism or neuralgia, which would have considerably diminished the good condition of health in which it was so necessary for me to be. I rolled a towel round my head, and I took the necessary measures without being disturbed. When evening came, rested and refreshed by the opportune "washing," I went to the theatre with my usual escort.

Of all the plays I have ever seen, none has left me with so slight remembrance as that with which the little theatre of Bad-Elster regaled its honest audience that evening. I was lost in thought concerning what was to follow, and I said to myself:

"Come what may, if life is a game let us play it to the end." When the performance was over, I returned to my hotel, without letting my secret agitation be noticed. The doctor and the other follower were amiably dismissed on the threshold of my room, and my last words added to their tranquillity:

"We arranged to go to tennis a little earlier to-morrow morning," I said, "but I feel that I shall have a good night--so let us put off our party until an hour later."

How could they doubt but that I was wisely going to try and have a long sleep? Moreover, every evening my clothes and my shoes were taken from me, and although I was not locked in my room (they had intended this at first, as on my arrival all the locks had been renewed), the night watchman had orders not to lose sight of my room, and a cordon of sentries surrounded the hotel.

But, as I have said, the watchman had been won over to my cause, and as to the sentries, I should soon see what was going to happen. I was much more afraid of my "lady-in-waiting," who slept in the room next mine. She had a keen sense of hearing, and she was always on the alert.

I had in my room my favourite dog, the good and faithful Kiki. What was I to do with him? How would he take my flight? He barked at a fly! The hour had indeed arrived, but I saw many harassing obstacles in the way.

I ruminated on all this while the chambermaid finished her duties. At last I was alone....

I promptly dressed myself in a costume and put on a pair of boots which I had succeeded in concealing in anticipation of my flight. My packing was soon completed. All lights were extinguished, and, hardly daring to breathe, I awaited the signal.

But what signal? I knew nothing. I must listen....

By degrees complete silence reigned in this tranquil corner of Bavaria after the theatre, as is usual in Germany, closed at 10 o'clock. Those who partook of late suppers were few. The calm night enveloped Bad-Elster--a beautiful night with a full moon--one more danger. But I had no choice, and my vigil was soon about to end.

The twelve strokes of midnight sounded, then the half-hour, then one o'clock struck, and almost immediately I heard a scratching at my door like that of a mouse. Kiki raised himself ... but with a sign I quieted him, and he understood.

I opened the door softly. The shadow of the watchman could be dimly seen in the corridor.

"Here I am," I said, in a low whisper.

"Silence!... Hold yourself in readiness. I will return when it is time."

He went away.

I remained for two hours absolutely glued to my door, my valise beside me. At last I saw a glimmer of light. It was the watchman. I turned to my dog, who was watching me uneasily. He pricked up his ears, and, sitting on the corner of a cushion in a chair, he understood that I was going away without him.

I caressed him, saying as I did so: "Kiki, don't make a noise. If you do, I am lost!"

He did not move, he did not bark, he did not even whine.

I was now beside the watchman at the threshold of the door.

"You must take off your boots," he whispered. "You will be heard."

He stooped down and removed my boots; then, taking charge of my small baggage, he conducted me forth, leaning on his arm.

With one last look I said good-bye to the familiar things which I had left in my room, and I again enjoined my good little dog to silence. I went along the corridor into which the rooms of my "lady-in-waiting" and the doctor opened. Thank God, the doors remained closed! Another corridor took us to a staircase by which we gained the ground floor. There, in almost total obscurity, I perceived a shadow, with one finger on its lips. It was the count....

The night watchman would not allow us to delay; he gave me back my boots and guided us, sheltered from the light of the moon by the hotel building, as far as a small conservatory, and then to a terrace which adjoined the road.

There two sentries had met and were talking peacefully in the moonlight, which, unfortunately for us, now illuminated the road to safety.

We waited anxiously. Luckily they soon separated, and walked away in opposite directions.... The count, taking his chance, made me cross the road in a few light bounds. He held my valise; the night watchman remained hidden on the terrace. We were now under the trees on the other side of the road. The sentries had seen and heard nothing! We had still to reach the carriage, which was waiting a little distance away. This was a landau with two horses, a local equipage, which would pass unnoticed. Any other, unknown to the district, would have been signalled and reported.

But a catastrophe occurred. The carriage was not where it should have been. We had a moment of despair. What a night! What suspense! All this agony of mind occurred under the trees pierced by the moon-rays, which seemed peopled with fearful phantoms. At last some of our friends who knew of my escape joined us and conducted us to the carriage. It started, but the tired horses went slowly. Suddenly, in the middle of the wood the vehicle came to a standstill; the driver confessed that he had lost his way.

We had reached a place known as "The Three Stones," the boundaries of three kingdoms, where Bavaria, Saxony and Austria join.

The driver turned his back on the right direction and returned towards Bad-Elster, where we hoped to get to the little station and catch a train for Berlin.

We had the good luck to be rescued from our anxiety by two of our partisans, who, worried by our non-arrival, came upon us unexpectedly and opportunely.

We arrived at the Hof without further incident, and a few hours later we were in the capital of Prussia. When the news of my escape reached my son-in-law and his Imperial brother-in-law they did not believe it. The fuss was tremendous. But matters had been well arranged at Bad-Elster. The brave people there took my part so thoroughly that the German and Austrian police had actually to go to the expense of making inquiries. I had vanished into thin air like a spirit, and they could not find a trace of the count.

In Berlin the secret agents of the Socialist deputy, Doctor Sudekum, who generously defended my cause, awaited us and sheltered us until a lull in the tempest enabled us to gain a hospitable soil.

Everything considered, we resolved to go by automobile to the station where the Orient Express stopped, and then to depart for France across Belgium by this train _de luxe_.

Let us pass over an alarm at the hotel at Magdeburg, where I should have been recognised and denounced had I not called Doctor Sudekum my husband! We seemed very devoted, and it was quite evident that a celebrated Socialist could not have a king's daughter for his wife.

At last I was able to get into a sleeping compartment, and luckily I had it to myself. The train rushed across Germany. The count watched over me and remained outside in the corridor as much as possible. The hours rolled by. At last I heard cries of "Herbesthal"!

I was just entering Belgium. I was about to see my country once more. Without, however, daring to stop there! Alas! The King was on the side of the Prince of Coburg! I hardly dared approach the window. I trembled. The Belgian Customs officials passed through the carriages. There was a knock at the door of my compartment, and the Customs officials appeared behind the conductor. But I had been vouched for, and they retired unsuspiciously.

Oh, the irony of the banal question: "Have you anything to declare?"

On the contrary, what had I _not_ to declare? I was the eldest daughter of the great King of these good people who did not recognize me. I wanted to cry out, so as to be heard as far as the Château of Laeken, and denounce the injustice of Fate, which made me a victim and an exile.

I was thinking thus when an old superintendent of the Belgian railways passed. He did not glance carelessly at me as the Customs officials had done; he scrutinized me gravely, and I saw that he knew at once who I was.

The count was watching in the corridor, and he was also certain that I had been recognized. He followed the superintendent. The man looked at him, read the anxiety in his face, and identifying him, doubtless by the photographs in the newspapers, stopped and said kindly:

"It is our Princess, is it not?... Do not be afraid. Nobody here will betray her."

I never knew the name of this good and faithful compatriot. If he is still alive I hope he will learn through these lines that my gratitude has often gone out and will always go out to him.

I arrived at last, safe and sound in Paris. I had nothing more to fear. I was in a hospitable country, protected by just laws.

It is common knowledge that shortly afterwards the most eminent French physicians recognized, after long interviews, when I was minutely interrogated and examined, the inanity of the pseudo-medical statements which had kept me in a lunatic asylum for seven years and caused me to be treated as a minor, incapable of managing my own affairs. My civil rights were restored to me; together with my liberty I had miraculously recovered my reason!

But I found again, alas! during the dreadful war, evidences of the implacable hatred from which I had suffered so much.

This time my enemies thought me in their power, and behaved in an odiously grasping manner. It was not now covetousness for the millions of my inheritance from my father the King, but it was greed for another fortune, that of the Empress Charlotte, my unfortunate aunt, whose old age is sheltered by the Château of Boucottes. This fresh possibility of wealth aroused the same covetousness, and, as of old, it produced the same line of conduct. But once again I was providentially saved.